Corbett leaned across and touched him gently on the arm.

'I am sorry, Lavinius. Truly sorry.'

'There were suspects, though,' Monck continued.

'There were Pastoureaux on the other side of the wood. They occupied an old ruined church. They swore they had nothing to do with Caterina's death.'

'The same group?' Corbett asked. 'The people we have here now?' Monck shook his head. 'I don't know. I was prostrate with grief. My Lord of Surrey brought in the sheriff's men but they could discover nothing.'

'Do you think the Pastoureaux killed Marina?'

Monck's face twisted into a sneer. 'That's for you to prove, Corbett! I don't give a damn who murdered Marina. But one day someone is going to pay for my daughter's death!' Monck grasped the reins of his horse and leaned over, pushing his face to within a few inches of Corbett's. 'I know what you | think of me,' he whispered. Corbett saw the murderous hatred blazing in his eyes. 'You think I've no scruples, no principles, no morals. But how can you have these, Corbett, when you have no soul? My soul, my life, died the day my daughter was murdered. God took away my wife, then he took Caterina. I don't listen any longer to the mumbling of priests!' Monck threw his head back and stared up at the grey skies. A strangled sound came from his bared lips. 'I'll curse and I'll curse till the day I die!' Monck tugged at his horse and galloped back towards the manor.

Corbett watched him go. He felt uncomfortable. He had judged Monck but had not realized the nightmares and ghosts that haunted the man's soul.